


My Fault

by Fulcrumisthebomb



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Decepticons being Decepticons, F/M, Implied Sexual Content, Implied dubcon, M/M, pre-K-class Fulcrum
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-14
Updated: 2014-09-14
Packaged: 2018-02-17 07:59:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,803
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2302367
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fulcrumisthebomb/pseuds/Fulcrumisthebomb
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Misfire isn't the first mech to show Fulcrum kindness.</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Fault

**Author's Note:**

  * For [FoxyTurttle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FoxyTurttle/gifts).



> Inspired by a pre-K-class Fulcrum headcanon from Foxy :3

Fulcrum had been delighted to receive the transfer orders; his old facility was just that-  _old_ \- and completely substandard to other outposts he'd been assigned to. B'Lahr 39 also was far removed from his current lover, who had become demanding lately. Fulcrum hated all the paint jobs he'd gone through in the last decacycle alone. His plating was continuously sticky, for a variety of reasons, and none of them pleasant.

Within one cycle, Fulcrum had casually flirted his way into the subcommander's berth, a mech easily twice his height and many times over his bulk. It was savage and fast, but Fulcrum had long since been desensitised to rougher play. Well worth the temporary security to recharge on the deepest setting after the long journey.

Unfortunately, as Fulcrum settled into his new position, he quickly discovered his chosen mech was as possessive as the last. While this meant a high degree of protection, the mech's overblown boasting of Fulcrum's skills brought a lot of unwanted advances. He couldn't live in the mech's pocket, and thus had to dodge hopefuls and bullies each time he was offshift- and sometimes while working, if they could find him.

_Fortunately_ , the mech's name held considerable weight, and Fulcrum was able to ward off even the most determined with just a few words. It was depressing that his new start felt like more of the same, but at least he got to play with cutting-edge technology and experiment with new procedures. 

And then, like most of the mechs Fulcrum attached himself to, the subcommander was killed on duty, and Fulcrum fell into a familiar panic. There were two mechs who had approached him that seemed to meet his expectations, but his favourite was away on recon. He would've liked to wait for him to return, but that night he was grabbed and tossed into a darkened room, threatened until he was curled into a corner. He certainly hadn't missed  _that_.

Option Number Two turned out to be nicer than Fulcrum had estimated. He wasn't quite the braggart the subcommander had been, but had a paranoid glitch that made him snap angrily at random times. When he wasn't glitching, Fulcrum actually enjoyed the interfacing and genuine affection. 

However, the violent streak was more than Fulcrum had bargained for. It was late and fairly quiet for the base when the mech caught up to him, grabbing him by the throat and holding him against the wall as he raved incomprehensibly, optics wild and sparking with madness. Fulcrum had a brief moment of dread, that this was the last mistake he'd ever make, when the pressure suddenly disappeared and he crumpled to the floor, tanks heaving.

As his vision flickered into focus, Fulcrum was lifted and steadied against a warm frame, a large hand curled gently around his waist. He wanted to flee, but his legs were shaking and primary systems were rapidly rebooting.

"Shhh." An unfamiliar voice trickled through the buzz in his audials. "Come with me."

"Nooo," Fulcrum groaned, digging his fingers into armour gaps. "M'fine. I wanna- I wanna-," He squeaked when the world tipped sideways, his gyros pinging alarms frantically as he was picked up.

"I've got a cube waiting in my room for you," the voice murmured above him, and Fulcrum paused his frantic wriggling. Extra rations were always a welcome perk; perhaps he should be agreeable until the mech delivered on his offer?

As excited as Fulcrum was for the unexpected present, his already-low fuel levels, combined with the earlier panic, lulled him into recharge before he even registered the mech's face.

\----------

When he woke, Fulcrum's memory banks were slow to respond. He was running on dangerously low, and he abandoned his initial curiosity to dive after the full cube next to the strange berth. 

"Slow down, or you'll get sick."

The amused voice made Fulcrum freeze, panicked as he slowly pivoted to stare at the other mech he hadn't realised was sitting nearby. She was  _huge_ and painted in a striking black and red pattern; even with her wings folded against her frame, she easily took up half the room. Large knobbled treads sat heavily on the broad arms and legs, assorted expensive mods and weapons integrated naturally into the armour. 

Fulcrum had just drank a  _triplechanger's_  cube without asking. 

He began babbling, setting the cube down and shoving it away as he raised his hands peaceably. To his surprise, the mech laughed and waved a hand dismissively.

"I told you it was for you. Do you remember?"

Fulcrum tilted his head, clumsily sorting through his recent memory files. The fight, the panic, the release, the hands- those very inviting hands that were placidly resting in the mech's lap. "Yeah," he finally said with a small smile. "I wasn't sure if the offer was still good."

The mech shrugged, glossy wings fluttering with the movement. 

Fulcrum waited awkwardly, thighs clamped together and hands nervously curling and uncurling. The mech was just staring at him, with that strangely warm smile, not making a move. The silence was odd, as if Fulcrum was supposed to know or say something, but he didn't have a clue.

However... Option Two was violent, and maybe this mech would be different. Fulcrum didn't recognise her- was she a new transfer?- but that hardly mattered.

Immediately Fulcrum's frame language changed from pensive to open, taking a few steps forward as his smile widened. "Thank you," he said in a low register, tentatively reaching out to press his hand to a thick arm. "For the cube, and- and what you did."

The mech's optics flared encouragingly at his touch. Fulcrum leaned in, looking over the mech's frame with an obvious gaze- Pit, this mech was built like a  _titan!_  "Anything I can do to, ah, return the favour?"

A hand crept up, settling over Fulcrum's and squeezing lightly. "I know what you're playing at, tech."

Fulcrum tilted his head, his smile melting into a slight frown. "What?"

"I've watched you since you got here."

"Uhm..." Fulcrum took a step back, but his hand was caught beneath the massive one. "You have?"

The mech laughed again, releasing Fulcrum's hand only to thread the thin fingers around a few of hers. "I'm the security director, Faultline. If I'm doing my job, you don't see me while I see everything. I've definitely noticed  _you_ , Fulcrum."

"Oh." Fulcrum shifted uncomfortably, unsure what to think. Attention was usually  _not_ good.

"And I've noticed you're very good at finding powerful lovers," Faultline continued, gently massaging Fulcrum's wrist with her fingertips. A brush of the triplechanger's sweetened fields made Fulcrum shudder. "Are you ready to stop wasting your time on those idiots and indulge someone who would enjoy calling you hers?"

Fulcrum blinked rapidly, his frame tingling from the flirting touches. This was an unusual proposal, warm and friendly in a way that made his spark constrict. There wasn't any deliberation needed; he used Faultline's grip to lever himself into the large mech's lap, giving his hips a small extra wiggle to slide his paneling along the massive thigh. "Hey, you give me an extra cube every shift and you can call me whatever you want."

Faultline's face broke into a wide smile, her touches growing more eager as she leaned down to capture Fulcrum's mouth with hers.

\----------

It sounded trite, but Faultline was unlike any mech Fulcrum had met. True to her description, Fulcrum never saw his lover when either of them were working, but overnight Option Two and the other bullies magically disappeared. It wasn't until much later Fulcrum stumbled across the orders that had reassigned them to the front lines, where they hadn't lasted for longer than a few cycles. 

Offshift, Faultline was plastered to his side- or perhaps  _he_ was to  _hers_ \- but there was none of the jittery, possessive vibes from the triplechanger. Any unwanted advances were met either with her fist or mysterious reassignments. As promised, there was always an extra ration waiting beside the oversized berth, and rarely some high grade they happily shared. Every night before recharge, Faultline would tuck him close to her chassis and murmur soft, passionate words until they fell into recharge.

She wasn't  _perfect_ , of course- her temper was legendary amongst the high-ranked officers, and there were several welding scars in her room from where she'd punched holes through the reinforced metal. Her attention to detail made her seem like she could read processors and there were absolutely no secrets, no space or time that was solely Fulcrum's, which irked him from time to time. Any time he became frustrated, though, he would fall into a fit of laughter, amazed that  _that_ was what he was complaining about- the  _only_ thing. 

Faultline didn't abuse him, was a considerate and skilled lover, and kept him properly fueled and supplied- and he had the gall to pout and whine about not being able to sit alone and read a manual once in a while? He was truly,  _truly_ spoiled for the first time in his life and he couldn't remember being happier.

\------------

When the base was attacked, Fulcrum used every sneaking trick he knew to make his way to the security room, but he was too late. His spark lurched in its chamber at the sight of the blank optics; the charred holes peppered across her frame distorted her lovely silhouette. The sensitive hands were blackened, melted to the hilt of a gun she likely didn't have time to fire.

Fulcrum ran.

\------------

"What're you thinking about?"

Fulcrum started out of his reverie, smiling when Misfire's face swam into view. He sighed softly, shifting closer to drop his helm against a broad shoulder. "Faultline."

"Where?"

Fulcrum laughed as Misfire glanced around their room, nuzzling at the jet's throat. "No,  _Faultline_. Someone I knew."

Misfire huffed, poking at Fulcrum's shoulder. "You thinkin' about someone else's spike while I'm trying to seduce you? _Harsh_. Real harsh."

"No, not  _that_ ," Fulcrum chuckled, pushing the teasing hand away. "You remind me of her sometimes is all."

"Oh?" Misfire perked, grinning as he moved so he was draped over the tech. "So she was insanely gorgeous and talented?"

"...Yes, yes she was," Fulcrum replied slowly. "It was- It's the way she talked to me. You talk enough for about three Faultlines, but still, you remind me of her. She was..." He paused, trying to find the right word. " _Soft_ , I guess. Too soft on me."

Misfire's grin shifted into a sincere smile, the manic energy calming for a moment as he stared down at him. "There's something about you that makes me  _wanna_ be like that."

That  _look_ , the unmistakable glint of pure adoration, echoed through Fulcrum's memories and for a brief second, it was Faultline smiling down at him, safe and secure and happy.


End file.
